Butterfly Stitches
by Alexandra.Wins
Summary: ."Young, hot, and clean cut - She was the type of preppy, rich girl he used to seduce in medical school - and yet just a little rebellious." House meets an atypical patient in the Clinic, but who is she really, and what's her connection to Wilson?
1. Chapter 1

Hi kids - I'm new, so I hope you enjoy. I welcome all reviews. I own nothing. xo

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The girl from Exam Room One really caught his eye.

She was completely his type. Young, hot, and clean cut - the type of preppy, rich girl he used to seduce in medical school - and yet just a little rebellious. Something about the steely glint in her eye, or the tattoo poking out from the sleeve of her blue thermal.

He managed to assess all of this even while clutching on to the railing she had knocked him back against when she had tried to barrell out of the room at a very reckless speed.

"God," He spat, "Don't you brake for cripples?"

"_You_ ran into _me_," She snapped back without missing a beat, "You really think I give a damn about your leg?"

The way each short breath fluttered the hair around her face gave her a wild, fantastic look, but as he geared up to retort, he stopped, finding himself fiixated on her left eye, which was ringed in purple. It wasn't hard from there to see that her bold, defensive stance was already wavering, her feet shifting restlessly as if she might make another break for it. Her eyes were big and watchful as she looked at him, not realizing how much they gave her away.

Sighing, he wondered why he always got the broken girls. Sweet words and gentle tones and Bambi eyes were so much more Wilson's field. He himself would rather look at pustules or infections any day.

He stepped aside and made a gesture at the hallway. "Staying or going, kiddo?"

She glared at him, but failed to make a move either way, chewing on her lip in indecision as she looked over her shoulder into the exam room and then back at him.

When she turned her head, House noticed a few faint scratches appear, just out of sight at the neckline of her shirt. Curiosity and medical obligation got the better of him, and he cleared his throat. "Whatever got you all the way here isn't going to go away on it's own. Why don't you save yourself the trouble of making two trips when you change your mind later?"

The girl seemed to contemplate this, then wrapped her sweater more tightly around herself and shuffled back into the room, where she ignored the exam table and chose to stand in the corner next to the sink. He followed her slowly and hung back, unsure what the whole story was. He knew better than to crowd a rape victim, which at this point it seemed like the most likely possibility.

"So what brings you to our fine establishment?"

"My eye...it's not healing as fast as it should." She flushed pink, ducking her head. "And I think I might have an STD."

Definitely a rape victim.

"Okay," He said quietly. "I'll get you a female doctor."

Her head came up, eyebrows furrowed. "Why? Male doctors can't prescribe penicillin anymore?"

"No," He said stiffly, biting back a sharper response, "But there will have to be an exam, and usually in these situations, the patient prefers a female."

The girl stared at him for a few moments before asking, "What situation would that be, exactly?"

He stared at her. Was she playing coy or just stupid?

"A situation involving sexual assault." He had to admit he was holding his breath a little, because sometimes saying it bluntly like that made them start to cry. Cuddy had been threatening sensitivity training for months, and he really didn't need another patient leaving in tears.

Luckily, she didn't start to cry at all.

She started to laugh.

"Interesting," He commented, drumming his fingers on his cane while he watched her lean forward and laugh into her long blonde hair.

She looked up at him, eyes teared, and gave a little smile. "Sorry, I just...if you knew what I..." She shook her head a little, "It's weird for someone to have that concern, because of my job. I forget sometimes."

"Well, luckily you have this great chance to explain it. I need to take your history. Current employment?"

The smile dropped of the girl's face instantly. "What?"

"If there's something going on with you that's abnormal, I need to know what your day to day surroundings expose you to." It was stretching the truth - at this point, he didn't really need these specifics, but his interest was piqued. When she didn't answer, he went on. "You were highly amused by the idea of sensitivity to women just now, so I assume it's a male driven profession."

"I wasn't amused -"

"Your laughter would indicate otherwise."

She started to look very nervous again, and shook her head. "You don't have to know this for a simple diagnosis."

It was true, so he changed the subject. "Let's start with your name."

"Georgia."

He waited, but she didn't elaborate. "Full name, princess."

"Georgia Summer...W-Whitney."

Obviously fake, as people didn't usually stumble over thier own surnames, but he let it go, wanting to get on to the jucier details. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, "Georgia Summer? Was your mother a Gone With the Wind fanatic?"

"No, just a Southern debutante. It was almost Georgia Peach, so I try not to complain."

"Touche. So where is Mommy now? How old? Healthy?"

"Dead." She said the word as if it weighed about a thousand pounds.

"Cancer?"

"Car accident."

"No hereditary illnesses?"

"Nope."

He paused. "How long ago?"

He shouldn't have cared since it wasn't a medical detail. He could have argued that he was just trying to work out her level of mental stability, but the truth was that she was sort of starting to intrigue him. Young, hot, and full of secrets, and so skittish it was actually kind of charming. Plus, his day had been really boring up to now.

"Two months ago."

"I'm sorry." He said, watching her face for signs of misty eyes or lip trembling, but found none. "Father living?"

She completely stiffened. "Yes."

"Healthy?"

"I..." She trailed off, looking helpless.

"You don't know," He answered for her. "How long has he been out of the picture?"

"Ten years."

"How do you know he's living? You talk to him? Get a birthday card?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Oh, it doesn't. I'm just interested."

She leaned back into the wall, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow. "Let's move on then."

"Okay. Profession?"

She didn't answer again, and he sighed in frustration. "Look, I'm the doctor. I'm the person you tell."

She cleared her throat. "I'm...I'm a sort of...professional dater."

In a lot of cases, he would have dropped the pen for dramatic effect. This time it was actually genuine surprise. "You're a hooker?"

Georgia's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "No!"

"Let's clarify. Men pay you to spend time with them."

She seemed to be trying to decide if it was a trick question. Carefully, she nodded her head.

"You spend time with them as a professional occupation."

"Yes."

"Does this special friend time ever turn sexual?"

She flinched a little, before hedging, "Not always..."

"Okay, well, I think you'll find that in all fifty states that is considered -"

"I'm an escort," She burst out. "I work for a company and I have regular clients and it's safe and there are rules. Hookers are women in thigh highs, standing on a corner somewhere hoping for some hairy backed sociopath or to pull over and pay them in crack."

House tapped his chin with his pen. "And yet the bottom line is that it's still offering sex as a billable service. That's where the law gets you."

The girl blinked up at him, looking unapologetically afraid. "Are you gonna call the cops?"

He shook his head a little. "No. I'm going to ask you some questions, and I just want you to tell the truth. Does that sound manageable?"

She nodded.

"You work for a company. Would you describe it as upscale?"

"Yes. Exclusive."

"And you have regulars. You never take on new clients?"

She flinched a little, and he noted it. "Once in a while...I cover for someone, or meet someone new."

"And you're safe?"

"Condoms and birth control. The regulars have proof of testing, it's an agency requirement."

"Okay." He steepled his fingers together and looked at her over the tips. "If all of that is true, why do you think you have an STD?"

Realizing she had walked into his trap, Georgia felt her eyes heat up, and fought the emotion back. "Things don't always go as planned."

"Don't I know it," He muttered, "I thought I was coming in here to beat level six in Donkey Kong."

She stayed silent, folded in on herself, and seemed to shrink.

He stared at her for a moment, drumming his fingers on his knees. "So let me set this up. You go to an...appointment. It's someone new, but you don't worry much. When you get there, he insists he doesn't like protection. But he's new and untested, so you tell him it's not an option. He gets mad. He slaps you around, you get a black eye. He takes what he wants anyway, you get an STD. Am I close?"

Her hands were shaking, just the slightest bit. She picked at the seam of her shirt, and looked up at him with hollow but dry eyes. "I know the risks of my job. I'm supposed to be able to handle it. I knew this could happen. It shouldn't change anything."

"But it does."

She nodded faintly. "Yeah, it does."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I know that."

"No, you don't. But you will." He sighed, kicking his feet out and stretching. "Can I ask you something?"

She laughed softly. "Why not? The worst dirt is already on the table."

He studied her. "You're young, you should be full of unrealistic dreams. Why do you do this?"

For a moment, he thought she was going to tell the truth. He could see it coming to the surface, but she hesitated, then fought it back, giving him a little smile and shrugging her shoulders.

"I have a lot of bills to pay."

"Fine," He said, smirking, "Don't tell me. Do you want a female doctor or not?"

Georgia scowled, "Can't we just skip this part?"

"Believe me, if there were any other way, I wouldn't have pet names for the genitalia of every hornball in the greater Princeton area."

She sighed. "Fine. Yes."

"It'll just be a minute."

"What's your name?" Georgia asked suddenly, stopped him before he reached the door.

He turned back, confused. "I've been sitting in here for the last -"

"I forgot to look."

Rolling his eyes, he flashed the name tag he was wearing at her, and she smiled at him and sat back.

"Thanks for your help, Dr. Foreman."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to iCraft to reviewing...take notes from her and speak up, people. :) Hope you enjoy, and oh yeah, I don't own House. Sorry to disappoint anyone who thought otherwise.**

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Georgia could not believe this was happening. She had done all the research specifically to ensure that this _didn't_ happen, and yet, here she was again at Princeton-Plainsboro, skulking around and hoping no one remembered her face.

The papers her mother had left behind listed her father's last place of employment as Princeton General, and now, after a series of phone calls, it seemed that she hadn't really bothered to confirm her information.

'_Thanks, Mom_,' Georgia thought bitterly, cringing as she saw a nurse she had spoken to and quickly turned away. An escort with a light case of the clap was not exactly the introduction she wanted, which is why a different hospital and a fake name would have had her covered. Unfortunately, there was no way to fix it now. She'd just have to plow ahead and hope nothing came of it, and she'd have to start now.

Without letting herself pause or question it for even a second, she gripped the handle of the door marked with James Wilson's name and pushed it open.

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When he reflected back on it, Wilson was surprised by his lack of shock upon seeing his daughter standing in the doorway to his office, shifting from one foot to the other nervously. Her hand was hovering over the doorknob like she might slam it shut and make a run for it at a moment's notice. Her eyes were deep brown like his, and she was furrowing her brow nervously. He didn't think about the fact that he hadn't seen her for ten years, about how much her mother hated him, or even about how much her mother had made _her_ hate him.

Ten years...he tried to think how old that made her, and that's when she first spoke.

"Twenty-one," She said, and her voice was darker, more smoky and mature than he remembered. Taking a deep breath, she took the seat on the other side of his desk without being asked, and crossed her legs. "I was eleven when you left."

'_I didn't leave_,' He thought immediately, but bit his tongue, not wanting his first words to be an argument.

Instead, he cleared his throat and looked down at his hands. "How have you been?"

The silence was a few beats too long, and the air became heavy with something he couldn't identify. He chanced a look at her, searching quickly for a trace of anger, sadness, any clue, but her expression gave away nothing.

"Fine." Her tone was clipped, and he didn't ask for details, unsure if it would irritate her.

"I applied to med school," She said, softer, and couldn't stop herself from looking up briefly for his reaction. His eyes lit up, and she turned her face away.

It was hard, pretending she didn't care whether he was proud or not. It had been hard for all these years, but he had left, so she didn't really feel like sharing any victories with him. Still, it was hard. His face was kinder than she'd let herself remember.

"Gigi, that's amazing -"

She bristled at the endearment, cutting him off. "It's Georgia. And that's not the whole story."

Wilson sat back, effectively reprimanded. He looked at his hands again. "Okay."

"I applied to Columbia, but I got waitlisted. My transcripts were good, but they weren't outstanding, and I need something to prove that I'm serious. I need something on my application they can't possibly turn away." She looked her father straight in the eye. "I need an internship with Greg House."

Wilson felt shocked and disappointed at the same time. For a fleeting moment, it had seemed as if she might actually ask for _his_ help, but he was just her stepping stone to House.

He couldn't even begin to imagine what it would be like to have her in the hospital every day, to hear her voice and see who she'd turned into. He was flattered, perhaps without deserving to be, that she wanted to be a doctor. He knew medicine tended to run in families, like law did in others, but he had figured the last thing she would want would be to follow in his footsteps.

But House...House would never say yes to this. He hated interns, he _really_ hated Georgia's mother (Or "Mrs. Wilson Number One"), and he would make sure to completely crush her in the process of turning her away.

Already able to picture her devastated face, Wilson found himself shaking his head at his daughter. "I don't know. You probably don't remember House very well. He's really not the best choice for this kind of -"

He cut himself off and watched her calmly get up, button her coat, and pick up her purse.

"Ten years you've been gone," She said evenly. "I don't care about the reasons and excuses why. I've never asked you for anything, but I'm asking you for this now, so listen...Do this for me, or stay out of my life."

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	3. Chapter 3

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Stars swam in front of Georgia's eyes as she stepped out into the hallway and closed the office door behind her. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to get her mind around what she'd just done, then opened them and turned around quickly, suddenly seized with the worry that he'd follow her out. She'd taken exactly two hurried steps when she collided with a solid but unsteady form. Losing her balance, Georgia stumbled backwards and sat down hard on her tailbone, opening her eyes at the crack of wood hitting the tile floor at the same time she did. She looked up in time to see a cane roll a few feet away while the owner clung to the banister to support himself, one hand clutching his thigh.

"Jesus, woman," He wheezed, pain and anger evident on his face, "Don't you brake for cripples?"

She sat on the floor and shook her head, unable to believe her back luck. "I've head that one before. You need a new line."

He looked up sharply then and recognized her, brow furrowed. "Yeah, well, you need a new act too, because getting run over by you is getting old fast. What are you doing back here?"

"None of your business," She snapped, wincing as she hoisted herself off the floor. "I may have bruised my coccyx."

House's eyebrows went up and he took a step closer, reaching out. "I can check that for you."

Georgia glared at him, "If your hand comes anywhere near my ass, I will beat you with that cane."

He stopped. "Do you always pick on the disabled?"

"Only when they get fresh." She shifted carefully, testing her tailbone.

"If I need an x-ray, I'm not paying for - " She broke off when he felt a hand on her lower back, pressing experimentally. She twisted quickly to tell him off again, but stopped when the pain of moving quickly made her gasp.

"It's not fractured, just bruised," He announced, "Congratulations. You're the winner of an inflatable ass dougnut for the next week."

"What?" This was so not how she had pictured this day ending.

"Yeah," House smirked, "They're pretty sexy."

Georgia shook her head in disbelief and started limping toward back toward the nurse's station, wincing at each step.

"Not even an apology to the cripple you mowed down?"

She spun around, "Once again,_ you_ ran into _me_, jackass."

Finally rousing to the commotion, Wilson's door opened, and he looked out in confusion just in time to see his daughter snarling at his friend. He raised an eyebrow,"House...?"

Georgia's heart felt like it was going to stop beating. Her lungs felt like they had been filled with ice. _This_ was _House_?

"No," She muttered, and her eyes scanned his coat for the badge that had been there before, "Your name wasn't House. It was Foreman."

House ignored her, still addressing Wilson, "Your kid's really grown up to be a brat, Jimmy. I might have to put her over my knee."

"What the hell is going on?" Wilson demanded, choosing to igore the implication of House's statement.

Georgia was vaguely aware that her mouth was hanging open in a very unattractive way. Looking at him now, she felt incredibly stupid. The last time she'd seen House had been a medical conference the year before her parents had divorced. He had been much younger and with no bad leg, but it still seemed obvious now.

More importantly, he somehow remembered her. And that meant he must have remembered her last week in the Clinic. The lump in her throat doubled in size at this realization.

"I'm just saying, if she hadn't inherited your slim hips and puppy dog eyes, her mouth could get her into trouble." House frowned, turning to the girl in question. "What are you doing here, anyway? Hasn't it been four, five years?"

"Ten," She said faintly. Why wasn't he busting her?

"Huh. Cool. So that means you're legal now, right?"

"House," Wilson protested, "She's my daughter for God's sake."

House snorted, "Please. Your daughter? It's been ten years. You're no more than a DNA match at this point."

"I have to go," Georgia blurted out. This situation had become entirely too much to handle. The prospect of seeing her father for the first time in a decade had taken enough courage. The fact that she had outed herself as an escort to said father's best friend and sabotaged any chance of getting her internship was too much to even register. She had to get out.

"You didn't answer my question," House pointed out.

"Yeah, well, you're not my father either. I guess that means I don't have to answer to either of you," She snapped before turning quickly on her heel and striding off.

Wilson closed his eyes for a moment, sighing. "Thanks, Greg. For making that so much easier."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was supposed to be prepping for your baby-daddy drama instead of saving lives today."

"You recognized her. Would it have killed you to be nice? Now I have to go and explain -"

"Doesn't really seem like she wants you to follow her," House pointed out.

"I know," WIlson gritted out, "But she shows up after ten years, that has to mean something..."

"What did she want?"

WIlson cleared his throat, really not wanting to admit that her reason had nothing to do with him. "She's applied for med school. Columbia."

"So? What, she wanted to give you a copy of the acceptance letter to tape to the fridge?"

"She was waitlisted. She needs...she needs my help."

"With what?"

"She thinks an internship will put her over the top to being accepted."

"Huh. Well that's going to be awkward, isn't it? Having your estranged daughter hanging around Oncology all day, having to explain to everyone why she won't call you 'Dad'.."

"She wants to intern for you."

A smile crossed House's face. "Ah-ha. So what you meant to say was she needs _my_ help."

"Forget it."

"Why?"

WIlson looked at him incredulously. "Are you saying you'd consider it?"

House shrugged. "Why not? We could use some fresh eye candy around here. Keep Cameron on her toes. Plus, it'll drive you crazy."

Wilson sighed, rubbing his temples. "The saddest part is, I'm grateful, even though you're only doing it for the chance to humiliate me."

"That's why we're so special, you and I. It's the pefect combination of give and take -"

"Yes, where I do all the giving and you do all the taking."

"But I always say thank you."

"No, you don't."

"Don't I? Well, I'll start now. Thank you, Wilson, for presenting me with the great opportunity to stare at your daugher's great little ass all day."

"...You are a horrifying excuse for a human being."

"One man's opinion."

"I can tell her you'll do it?"

"You can tell her she better be good."

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**Next, we begin a look into the hellish experience of being House's intern...:)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to you guys for reviewing...I love it. xo.**

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It took Wilson an hour to psych himself up for the phone call, even though it was good news. He wasn't sure why. Every time his picked up the phone, he ended up putting it back down and staring at the picture of the fifth grader he had kept in his wallet for the last ten years, all pigtails and hot pink lipstick and some awful blouse her mother had picked out.

A couple of weeks after the picture had been taken, he had packed several suitcases with belongings and moved out. He had seen Georgia a few times after that, in neutral places; the park, the mall, the movies. He'd paid child support, and they hadn't battled for custody. It was a fairly manageable situation until his ex-wife, Clara, announced that she and Georgia were moving back to Rhode Island to be closer to her parents.

Wilson didn't want to think about how easily he had let his daughter disappear. He didn't want to think about plans to visit that always fell through, and occasional phone calls that tapered off into never. He didn't want to think about how badly he'd failed to fight for her, but simply taken Clara's word for the fact that Gigi didn't want to see him anymore. Seeing the independent, grown up young woman she'd become, he was crushed by guilt. His baby wanted to be a doctor now, just like him, and he hadn't been there for her.

And he still found, after an hour of pacing his hotel room, that when she answered the phone he still wasn't prepared.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Gigi, it's -" He drew a blank. Dad? James? God forbid, _Dr. Wilson_? He had no idea who he was to her now.

"I know who it is. It's the twenty-first century, we have Caller ID."

"Right. Okay." He cleared his throat. "Um, how are you?"

"I can't really chat right now. Did you talk to House?" There were voices, loud and echoing. He wondered where she was, and tried not to be stung by the way she skipped over the small talk.

"Yeah." He took a deep breath. "He's willing to take you as an intern."

Faintly, he heard her breath catch. "Really?"

She couldn't hide her excitement, and it made him smile. "Really. But I should warn you -"

"When do I start?"

"Next week. But Gigi -"

"Georgia."

"There are things you need to know..." He paused, trying to word it right, "About House. About working for him. He's - "

"Do you think I'm an idiot? I've researched this. I've talked with Dr. Cameron. I've got it covered.

Wilson paused. "You talked to Cameron?"

"Over the phone, about a month ago. I might have pretended I was writing an article about communicable diseases. I was planning on having to pry, but it was easy. House was all she wanted to talk about. Does she realize how obvious her obsession is?"

"I -"

She cut him off. "Whatever, I've got to go. I'll call the department myself to confirm the start date and details."

Wilson swallowed hard. "Okay."

There was a brief pause, and he wondered if she was actually going to hang up now, leaving him with nothing, not even a few words.

"Um." Her fingernail tapping nervously on the receiver rang in his ear. "Thanks."

He breathed a sigh of relief, "You're welcome." There were a few beats of silence, and he groped for something else to say, something to ask. "So, um, how's your Mom doing with you being so far -"

"Gotta go," She said quickly, and she did hang up then, without really saying goodbye, but it was okay. It was enough.

Wilson put the phone down and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, rubbing the tense muscles in his neck. He couldn't wrap his mind around it.

His kid, his little girl...maybe not lost after all.

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Georgia snapped her phone shut, gripped the edges of the sink, and took a deep breath. She couldn't believe it. She was in.

"Holy shit!" Balancing precariously in her stilettos, she threw her head back and laughed, loud and relieved. The woman taking a paper towel from the dispenser threw her a confused look and hurried out, and Georgia laughed harder.

She leaned forward and stared into her reflection and smiled, glancing up when the door opened again. "Hey, Lexi, your date's getting restless."

It took Georgia a second to remember she was 'Lexi'. A tall redhead joined her at the mirror and started reapplying her lipstick. "What are you so happy about?"

Georgia shook her head, picking up her purse. "Nothing. Thanks, Heidi."

"Paul's pretty possessive tonight. He asked me to come in here and find you."

"He's always like that after they do his board reviews at work. I don't know why he bothers insisting on drinks and dinner. He just rushes through it all to get to the bedroom."

"Technicality. You call a girl to your place, do her and pay her, it's solicitation. If you feed her, it's a date."

"That's a pretty flimsy smoke screen."

The other girl shrugged, "They don't need much."

"Isn't that the truth." She took out her own lipstick and applied another coat. When she looked up, Heidi was watching her.

"What?"

"How are you? Are you okay?"

Georgia capped the tube and blotted her lips together, buying a moment of time. She had told only the necessary people about her assault the weekend before, and only in the amount of detail needed to make sure he was blacklisted to all the agencies in the area.

"You heard," She stated flatly, and Heidi nodded. The girl was notorious for mysteriously picking up information that was supposed to be kept quiet.

"I hope you don't mind me asking..."

"No, it s okay. And I'm fine. But..." She hesitated.

"Are you worried about going home with Paul?"

Georgia almost laughed. Paul was a short, unassuming man in his mid-forties who taught high school Biology and often asked for her help grading papers when he was too nervous to 'perform'.

"No," She said, "Paul's safe. Paul's...predictable. I think I'll stick to regulars, though."

"Sure," Heidi said, "Yeah. As long as you're okay...I mean, I understand. I've had a few nights with new guys when I..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

She didn't need to finish, Georgia was all too familiar with the unease that came in their line of work. Even in an upscale, regulated agency, with pre-screening and rules, it could be hard to weed the dangerous from the merely eccentric.

"I should head back. Have a good night, honey. Be safe."

The two women embraced briefly, and Georgia headed back out to her date, wondering what her father would say about what she was doing tonight, and whether or not it was only a matter of time before he found out. She could not for the life of her figure out why House had protected her secret when she ran into him in the hallway, but she had no reason to believe it would stay that way.

As she took her seat at the bar again, she berated herself for caring what Wilson thought at all. If he didn't approve, maybe he should have stuck around to raise her the way he thought fit. Abandonment hardly gave him a vote in her lifestyle, especially not abandoning her to a mother whose instances of guidance or help or sobriety were fifty percent at best.

Paul smiled at her. "Hey, babe. I ordered you another martini."

Her father hadn't been there, she reasoned, and now her mother was gone, too. And that was why it made sense that she was sitting here with this man, whose hand she was allowing to move steadily up her leg. She was doing what she felt she had to do, and damn them anyway.

Damn them both to hell for leaving her.

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**Poor girl's got issues. And yes, the next chapter will be set in the first day of Georgia's internship. I lied about that before, but I wanted to give a little backstory before forging ahead. Hope you enjoyed.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Numero cinco. Encantado! ....Also, I don't own House.**

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One week later, Georgia sat in the Diagnostics conference room with a stomach full of butterflies and a massive thermos of coffee in front of her. She'd been up half the night poring compulsively over old textbooks, convinced that she could avoid being humiliated if she just knew all the answers.

It was stupid. Pre-med kids never knew the answers, and House would find a way to humiliate her no matter how smart she sounded. It all would have been fine if she didn't have the other thing to deal with, too.

Georgia had taken the issue of her "night job" and put a pin in it. There was no way to predict what would come of House having the information, and she would only give herself an ulcer trying. Everything she knew about him told her he was unconventional, a rule breaker. She decided to focus on being a good student, and hope the rest didn't end in disaster.

The first person to enter the room looked at her strangely as he set down his briefcase and coffee cup. "Hi."

Georgia nodded at him stiffly. "Hey."

"Are you lost?"

She should have known House wouldn't have mentioned her. "I don't think so. Are you one of House's fellows?"

"I'm Dr. Foreman." He offered his hand and she shook it, smiling dryly,

"If you had actually been in the Clinic a week ago, my life would be a lot easier right now."

He frowned, "What?"

She shook her head, smiling. "Nothing. It's nice to meet you."

"Mind if I ask who you are?"

"Yeah, sorry. I'm Georgia -"

"Whitney," Came House's voice as he strode in. "Georgia Whitney."

Georgia just looked at him. Obviously he realized her name was Wilson, not Whitney, the fake name she'd given before. She didn't understand, but she wasn't going to correct him.

"Uh..right."

Chase and Cameron walked in together, and House rapped his cane on the table, then pointed it at Georiga.

"Say hello to our new addition. Haven't I raised you better than this?"

"Uh, hi," Chase said, confused. "Addition?"

"We've taken on an intern. Introduce yourself, kid."

"I'm Georgia. It's nice to meet you." She hated how her voice was getting softer with every word.

"Since when does Diagnostics have an internship program?" Cameron frowned. "Have you even been to medical school yet?"

"Cameron, where are your manners? This is no way to treat a guest."

"You're going to lecture me on manners? You actually _stomped my foot_ with your cane last night to keep me from leaving the lab."

"Yeah, I didn't realize those were two hundred dollar boots you were wearing," House peered at her with mock concern, "Did the mark buff out?"

"Yes, but that doesn't change the fact that two of my toes are splinted today."

"You still got the better deal. Toes heal for free. Quit whining."

"Does anyone care that we have a case?" Foreman finally asked, looking up from the chart he'd been studying for the past five minutes. "Eighteen year old female, memory lapses and fainting spells. She is running a high fever and hasn't responded to any treatment."

"When was she admitted?"

"Last night."

"Well, go. Get history, run tests. Do whatever it is you plebians do before we get to the fun part."

"What about...?" Chase gestured to Georgia. "She can't come with us unless she has her clearance badge issued already."

House shrugged at Georgia. "So take care of that."

"I didn't know where to ask -"

He cut her off, limping into his office. "Well, figure it out. I'm not your babysitter."

The door slammed, and Georgia finally exhaled. She glanced at the three fellows standing in the doorway and smiled weakly. "Well, I actually thought it was going to go worse."

Foreman smiled as he tore off a page of his legal pad and wrote Cuddy's office number on it. He pushed it across the table to her and paused. "Listen...if you want to get anything out of this, you have to not be afraid of him. He's an ass, but you have to speak up anyway. That's the only way to get his respect."

"And don't get your hopes up," Chase added. "He doesn't even respect us."

Georgia glanced at Cameron, hoping for a more uplifting word of advice, but the other woman was leafing through the case file, brow furrowed in concentration.

As she trekked down to the Dean's office, she started holding her breath again. Maybe this was how he was going to do it. Lure her into false sense of security, only to find that she was refused any kind of clearance because House had spilled everything about her...

"Can I help you?" Her fears were waylaid again as the brunette woman at the desk regarded her with a confused expression, one hand poised in reaching for a folder off of an enormous stack.

"I'm here about getting a clearance badge. I'm an intern."

"Oh." Cuddy's expression went from confused to bored, and she reached into her desk and started fishing around. "The badge is red for a reason. Anywhere with red clearance or lower, you can go freely. Anything higher than that - patient's rooms, rooms with expensive equipment - you have to go with a doctor. Rooms are marked so you know which is which. Got it?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Have a good day."

Obviously the place had tons of interns, because the speech was given only in the way it can be when it's already been said a thousand times. Georgia glanced at the badge in her hand and wondered if she should go looking for the Fellows. Instead, she found her feet heading back up to the second floor, back to House's office. She knew it was probably stupid to bring it up, but she couldn't just sit back and wait.

She let herself in and stood awkwardly in the doorway.

He broke the silence first. "I guess going into debt for med school does qualify as 'a lot of bills to pay', huh?"

She swallowed loudly. "Why didn't you say anything to Wilson? Or anyone else?"

He stared at her, spinning a pen on his desk in lazy circles. "If I had spilled your little secret, how could I possibly entertain myself with blackmailing you?"

Georgia didn't know him well enough to know whether or not he was joking. His voice was flat, his face straight. Slowly, she walked to the desk, leaned forward and stopped the spinning pen with her hand. "Blackmail me for what, exactly?"

He didn't answer for a moment, his eyes burning into hers, looking for something. Then he stood up abruptly and limped around to her side of the desk. Georgia watched him with wide eyes, retreating a step when he stood in front of her. Experience had taught her to be wary of his stance, but she was too angry to back down completely. "Oh, I see. You're doing me a favor, so you get favors? I'm going to be Intern Hooker?"

He shook his head. "No."

"No?" She echoed, crossing her arms and bracing her feet for battle. "You exploit people's vulnerability, you manipulate them to get what you want. I hear you even have a taste for hired girls. What else should I think?"

"You don't have to stand like that," He said, ignoring her speech.

Georgia's crossed arms squeezed herself harder. "Like what?"

"Like I can't keep my hands to myself."

She stared at him and her arms dropped slowly to her sides. "I'm not."

"_Now_ you're not."

"I wasn't."

"You don't have to lie about it, kid. It's a typical post-traumatic reaction." He squinted at her, "You need anti-anxiety meds."

Georgia laughed humorlessly. "If this is your attempt to change the subject, it's really lame."

She went to move around him and he blocked her, moving into her path so they almost collided. With a sharp intake of breath, Georgia stepped back from the sudden movement, feeling a throb of adrenaline bolt through her body.

"Right, you're the picture of trust," He said sarcastically.

Georgia glared at him, "You did that on purpose to scare me. It doesn't count."

"Someone who wasn't having residual anxiety wouldn't have been that easily scared. I'm putting you on Zoloft."

"Not trusting a stranger who's known for behaving erratically isn't a symptom," She argued, "It's common sense."

"You could try to spin it that way. Unfortunately, the truth is that I'm your father's best friend, not a stranger. Your fear makes you believe I'll hurt you, in broad daylight, in the room next door to his office, and that _is_ a symptom."

Georgia didn't answer, keeping her expression annoyed, and he invited himself to conclude, "Plus, your mother died recently, _and_ you've admitted experiencing a traumatic event in the last two weeks, which trumps everything anyway. I'm right, you're wrong. I win, you lose. Take the damn meds and get used to it."

"What if I say no?"

"I call the shots in my department. Say no, and you can march back down to Sunset Boulevard and keep hoping for Richard Gere to show up."

"Again, lame. And none of this explains your comment about blackmail, by the way."

"Right." He paused, smirking. "I didn't mean I was going to blackmail you for what I'm sure is a very extensive set of skills..."

"What else could you possibly want from me? I don't have any Vicodin, and I won't steal my father's prescription pad for you."

"Easy, killer. Let's not get personal."

Georgia scoffed. "Can't beat _that_ irony..."

"Wilson is obsessed with you, therefore you are of huge value to me." He caught her eye and held it. "Nothing to do with you losing your panties, got it?"

The look on his face was as close as she'd seen him come to sincerity, and for some reason it made her shift uncomfortably. Suddenly all she wanted to do was get out of the room, but he clearly wasn't budging until she agreed to all of his demands.

She crossed her arms and sighed in defeat. "Any particular reason this speech had to be delivered while I'm cornered against a bookshelf?"

"Well, you did say I like to exploit people's weaknesses, and let's face it, this one's just too easy." He finally stepped out of her space to scribble out the prescription, then leaned against the desk and fluttered the paper at her. "Take it or leave it, kid."

Every bone in her body wanted to take the little slip, shred it, and throw it over him like confetti. He was condescending past the point of human decency, inappropriate, and insensitive. He was the kind of man she would give a swift kick to the crotch any other day of the week.

But he _had_ just all but promised not to take advantage of her, and she really, really needed this job.

After a moment's hesitation, she snatched the paper and stalked from the room, humiliated and leaving House with a triumphant smile.

**********

*


	6. Chapter 6

Don't own House, and it's probably for the best. I cry easily. :)

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Wilson almost walked past the darkened conference room on his way out without glancing in. A quick movement caught his eye, and he paused, catching the silhouette of a woman standing at the edge of the window, a strip of dim light hitting her face at the edge of the closed blinds.

He hesitated, and kept walking, then stopped at the elevators and turned back. She'd been working for House for almost a month now, and hadn't sought him out at all. He had convinced himself that he was just respecting her space, but now it seemed like she might just be content for them to remain strangers, and the thought didn't sit well. He wanted them to know each other, and he didn't want to pass up an opportunity.

The door opened quietly, but his keys clinked on the glass, and her gaze fell on him, looking glazed and far away. She gave him a little nod. "Hey."

Pathetically, he was thrilled with even this small but normal greeting. "Hi. You okay?"

Georgia looked out the window again as if something else might have appeared. She nodded again.

"You're still here, that's impressive. I was afraid House would squelch any desire you had to study diagnostics."

"The opposite, actually," She answered flatly. "It's amazing what he does."

"I know," Wilson said quickly, "The medicine is genius, but _he_ can be -"

"He's a terror," She agreed. "But it's okay. He's okay."

The silence stretched out then. He knew it was unreasonable to be upset that she managed to think _House_ was okay, but couldn't seem to spare him a word.

"We diagnosed an invisable tumor today," She said suddenly, and when he looked up she was still staring out the window, but smiling. "It didn't show up anywhere, but House nailed it because Chase noticed how the patient's eye was twitching, and -"

She stopped for a second, trying to remember exactly how it had all pieced together, then gave up. "Whatever. I wrote it all down so I could study it later, but..."

"It's cool?" Wilson supplied simply, and she finally made eye contact with him.

"Yeah. It's really cool."

"You look tired."

"Pulled an all nighter doing grunt work."

"You want a ride home?" It was the first time he was suggesting the two fo them be alone, in an enclosed space where there was no chance of a quick escape, where some actual talking might ensue. He held his breath, but luckily, she seemed too exhausted to see the offer as anything other than the opportunity to not have to wait for the bus.

She shrugged and grabbed her messenger bag off the conference table. "Sure."

They walked down to the parking garage in relative silence, and by the time they reached WIlson's Lexus, she seemed more suspicious. "My place isn't that far," She said before getting in, "I could probably walk there faster than you'll get there with traffic and everything."

"Nah." He pressed a button on his keychain and the car chirped, signaling the doors had unlocked. "You're tired and it's starting to rain. I don't mind."

Georgia got in the car and kept her mouth shut, running one finger along the soft leather interior.

"So you went to Brown," Wilson said, starting the car and flipping on the left turn signal.

She glanced at him. "Yeah. Mom wanted me to stay close to home and I wanted to go to an Ivy."

"It's a good school. Graduating with honors for pre-med and having fine arts extracurriculars looks great on a transcript."

"Uh-huh." Her forehead creased a little. "How do you know that?"

"Know what?"

"That I had honors. What my extracurrics were."

"I Googled you," He admitted, "You were involved in everything, it wasn't hard to find you."

There was a beat. "You Googled me?"

"Did you think I wouldn't want to know about you?"

"No, I just thought that when parents wanted to know about their kids, they called them up and asked instead of going all internet P.I."

"I didn't think you'd take the call."

"Because of all the times you tried?"

Wilson sighed. "I'm not saying I wasn't wrong. But not hearing from you all these years kind of made me think I was right."

She half turned toward him in the seat. "So it was my fault for not begging?"

"Georgia..."

"No, I can totally see how it would have been the responsibility of the ten year old to facilitate a relationship with her parent."

"All I'm trying to say is -"

"You're right. I should have been saving up my milk money for a secret pre-paid calling card. Clearly, _I_ was the deadbeat here."

"I didn't mean -"

"We haven't passed the bus stop yet, you can just let me out here."

"I really wasn't trying to bring all this up, I just wanted to make conversation -"

"Screw you. I spend ten years making wishes on birthday cakes and laughing off Father's Day and telling people you're dead, but it's all supposed to be okay because you cared enough to _Google_ me?"

He was stunned. "Why would you tell people I was dead?"

"Because otherwise they'd ask why you left, and I _didn't_ _know_!" Georgia threw open the door of the car just before it stopped, jumping out and reaching back for her bag.

Wilson grabbed the strap first. "Georgia, please don't take off like this. I'm sorry. We obviously have a lot to say, let's go somewhere and -"

"I don't have anything to say," She snapped, wrenching the bag out of his grip. "Mom was so right about you."

She slammed the door, and headed for the crosswalk, squinting against the rain that was really starting to come down.

"Damn it!" Wilson slammed his palm on the steering wheel before making a split second decision and throwing his door open to go after her, leaving his car idling at the stop sign.

"Wait!" He grabbed her arm just as she stepped onto the curb, and she jumped a mile, looking at him with wide eyes.

"What are you, crazy?"

"Please, just get back in the car..."

"Go to hell!"

"Georgia -" She tried to twist away from him, but he held on, desperate to make her listen.

"Let go of me! You think I haven't dealt with this before? I will scream loud enough to get an entire police precinct up here!" She shoved him back, forcing him back off the curb into the crosswalk.

He frowned for a second, letting her go, hearing something wrong with her statement. He raised his voice to be heard over the rain. "Dealt with what?"

They were both distracted then by a frantic, shattering scream, looking around for the source a split second before impact. Georgia fell backwards and felt her head crack mercilessly against pavement.

Neither of them had seen the car coming.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the feedback, guys! It helps a ton. xo**

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The first thing Georgia was aware of was the electronic beeping of a handheld video game. She opened her eyes carefully, coming face-to-sneaker with the pair of Nikes propped on the side of her bed.

There was a pinging sound as the game paused, the shoes disappeared, then House appeared in her vision. Some idiot had given him bright green bubble gum, and he was popping it loudly. "Boy, when you're pissed at a guy, you don't hold back."

"Huh?" Her head was throbbing, she realized.

"Wilson. I know the guy took off on you, but throwing him into traffic is pretty hardcore."

Georgia's eye widened. "What?"

House rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a drama queen. You hit your head when you fell, you have a light concussion. I _know_ it's not bad enough for any memory loss."

She started struggling to sit up, pushing herself onto her elbows and wincing as she felt that they were scraped raw from landing on the sidewalk. She had the blanket halfway off when a firm hand on her shoulder eased her back down. "You stand up right now, you'll regret it."

Too weak to really resist, Georgia allowed herself to recline back to the pillow. "I remember arguing, hearing a scream and hitting the ground. What happened?" She swallowed hard, "How's...?"

"Daddy?" House supplied petulantly.

"House, stop antagonizing her." A female voice came from the doorway, and Georgia looked up, startled, to see Dr. Cuddy lingering there with her arms crossed. She gave a tentative smile and took a few steps inside. "It wasn't a direct impact. He didn't get run over so much as get bounced off the right fender."

"Which was probably pretty funny looking, if you can be objective about it," House piped in.

Georgia closed her eyes. "For the love of God, will someone just _tell_ me."

"Two fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder. Pretty decent bruising, but overall nothing worse than a standard car accident." Cuddy gave her a tentative smile. "He'll be fine."

There was an awkward silence where Georgia assumed she was supposed to ask if she could see him, or cry, or do something daughterly. Instead, she lay numbly, wishing both of her visitors would get out so she could think.

"There was some concern," Cuddy spoke up again, sounding reluctant. "About the nature of the accident. There was only one witness, and she said...she implied, that the two of you were arguing."

Georgia heart caught in her throat. "It was an accident. We were arguing, but it was raining, it happened so fast -"

Cuddy held up a hand. "Wilson denied everything. He said it was his fault, that things escalated because of him." Cuddy looked at her carefully. "He doesn't blame you, Georgia."

"Maybe not for this," She muttered.

Cuddy looked confused, but didn't press. She reached over and patted the girl's hand somewhat uncertainly. "I'll let you rest." Halfway to the door, she paused and glanced and House, "You, too."

"You're not the boss of me." His eyes didn't leave Georgia's, and she shifted uncomfortably.

"Actually, that's _exactly_ what I am. Leave her alone, or I'll do more than boss you."

House's gaze flicked up at that. "Promise?"

Cuddy rolled her eyes, opening the door to let herself out, "I mean it."

Once the door closed, he leaned forward again and drumming his fingers on his knees intently. "So what really happened out there? You finally came clean, he couldn't handle it?"

"No," Georgia said bitterly, "He just managed to out himself as an insensitive ass, that's all."

"Interesting." House sat back, stretching his good leg out in front of him. "Not usual feedback for Wilson. Usually he's too sensitive, grossly sensitive. Occasionally, he's so sensitive he changes gender."

"He's a jerk."

"He's a pussycat."

"Minus the 'cat'."

House chuckled at that, but his gaze was still boring into her in that disconcerting way he had. "You're going to have to forgive him sometime."

Georgia sighed and broke eye contact. "He doesn't deserve it."

"How do you know? It's not like you've been around."

"He didn't want me around."

"Maybe he did."

"He didn't."

"Jesus Christ, you're stubborn. Are you his kid or mine?"

She took a breath, shutting her eyes against the fluorescent lights. "He gave up on seeing me. He made excuses and justified it and never called or wrote. How do you do that? Birthdays, Christmases...I used to wonder if he was sad, or if he was out having a good time. Now I know."

"No, you don't," House said quietly. The room darkened, and Georgia opened her eyes a little. He moved away from the light switch and stood at the foot of her bed. "Your birthday is August twenty-eighth, isn't it?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Is that supposed to impress me? You've read my medical history, you know when my birthday is."

"You think I memorize the birthday of every Tom, Dick and Hooker that comes into the clinic?"

"Then what's your point?"

"August twenty-eighth, Wilson disappears. Does it every year I've known him, and for a long time it was the only secret he managed to keep from me. I stole his date book, I hacked his email, nothing. Drove me insane." House smirked to himself. "Two years ago, I've all but given up, and I find him when I'm not even looking. He goes to the pediatric cancer ward. On personal time. He sits with emaciated, hairless little kids, reads them stories, and grieves." He eyes cut at her in the dim light. "For you."

Georgia swallowed hard, trying very hard not be affected. "You dimmed the lights just for effect, right?"

He didn't answer, and she shook her head slowly,"You don't know that he does that because of me."

"Right. I'm sure it's just an amazing coincidence."

"You're the one in everyone's business, why didn't you ever ask?"

"Funny thing. The more people know you're trying to figure them out, the more they hide."

************************

Somehow, Wilson knew it was night. He didn't quite know how he knew it until his vision cleared and he realized that he was staring at a dark window, streetlights twinkling right at the level of his second floor window.

His neck was stiff, his left side hurt like hell, and his jaw felt bruised. He remembered the accident then, and wondered how long he'd been out, wondered where Georgia was, wondered if someone had taken his car back to the garage... His thoughts were interrupted when heard movement to his right and turned his head slowly. Georgia stood there, looking small and uncertain, her honey blonde hair illuminated by the night light. There was a wound on her forehead, creeping down toward her temple, and he frowned upon seeing it.

"Are you okay?" His voice was raspy, and he coughed a little to clear his throat. She didn't answer, just looked at him with her lips pressed together tightly, staring. His heart thumped, and he swallowed hard again. "Hey...I'm sorry about -"

"Shut up."

He blinked in surprise. Was it possible she was still angry now? Before he had too much time to contemplate it, he felt her hand creep into his, and when he looked up at her, tears were slipping down her face.

"You volunteered in the kid's oncology ward on my birthdays," She choked out, and he found himself internally cursing and thanking House at the same time. She had said it as a statement, not a question, but when his silenced confirmed it, she cried harder.

Wilson stayed quiet, squeezing her hand until he could feel the silver rings she wore on two of her fingers.

"You sat with them," She hitched out, her eyes big and brown and hurt. "And you missed me?"

His own eyes prickled at the edges, and he nodded tightly, using her hand to draw her closer, pulling her down to kiss her forehead. She went limp for a moment, resting her head on his shoulder, then pulled back slightly when his fingers touched the gash on her forehead gingerly. Looking at his expression, she suddenly knew exactly what he was remembering.

"I was six. I wanted to play doctor, so you took me to a real first aid class."

He smiled. "When they talked about butterfly stitches, you thought they said butterfly kisses."

"And I used them on everything after that. You, me, Mom, the dog, the crack in the windshield of your car." Georgia laughed. "In college, I used them to hang posters so I wouldn't ruin the walls with thumbtacks and lose my security deposit."

"I called you Stitch for a while because of that obsession."

"I remember."

He stroked her hand with his thumb, and she pulled back and pointed at him. "You can't just get run down by a Buick whenever you want to make up with me."

"Is that what this is? Making up?"

Georgia hesitated. Making up was harder than simple forgiveness. It was coming clean about her whole life; Mom, her night job, everything. Making up meant the possibility of losing everything very soon after getting it all back.

She shrugged, giving up to the giant question mark. "This can be giving it a try."

****************

**Any and all thoughts are welcome. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey guys, thanks for your reviews!! It helps a ton to know what you're thinking. xoxo**

**I don't own House!**

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"You don't have to do this."

"I want to."

"Seriously, it's not a big deal."

"You're getting an award, with a plaque and everything. I'm going."

"They give plaques out for anything."

"This one says you made a substantial contribution to the field of oncology."

"They all say -"

Georgia laughed, punching him lightly in the shoulder. "Shut up. I'm being supportive. I thought we were trying this whole father-daughter thing on."

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Trying it on?"

"Yeah. To see how it fits."

"Like a dress?"

"Sort of."

"I know you haven't been to med school yet, hon, but genetics don't really fit according to hemline."

"Are you being condescending?"

"You're my kid, I'm allowed."

She smiled at that, a little shyly. It was weird not to be pissed at him. It left kind a gap that she was afraid of, like her anger at being abandoned had fueled her forward, and now she needed another reason to work as hard.

The past three weeks that Wilson had spent recovering had allowed for a lot of normal, catching up and joking around, the way old friends might talk. There was no crying, hand holding, or apologies. There was still a lot unsaid.

Georgia dropped her messenger bag over her head and pulled her ponytail out from under the strap. "So what time does this hootenanny start?"

"If that's what they're calling it now, I'm definitely not going."

"Answer the question, douchebag."

"Seven."

"Cool. I'll meet you there."

"Wait." He looked awkward all of a sudden. "Are you really going shopping for this?"

"Yeah. I need shoes."

He hesitated again. "Hand me my wallet."

She almost burst out laughing. "What?"

"I'll front you some cash."

"You'll 'front' me? What have you been watching?"

"I -"

"You're also using it wrong. 'Front' would indicate a loan. What you're offering is to buy me shoes, free and clear."

He grimaced. "Whatever. Let me do this."

"No!" She laughed, crossing her arms. "I'm an independent woman, haven't you heard the song?"

Wilson looked uncertain. "Shoes are expensive. I heard the nurses saying Cuddy just bought a pair that were three hundred dollars."

"Doctor Cuddy wears Jimmy Choos. I'm a Nine West girl myself."

"...I have no idea what that means."

Georgia laughed. "I know. See you later."

******************

The night was going well.

Too well.

Wilson had had a glass of champagne and started introducing Georgia to everyone as his daughter, pretending not to notice when people looked shocked or confused. It was sweet that he wasn't ashamed of her, and part of her was trying very hard not to overthink it, but her secrets were eating away at her. She hadn't talked about her mother's death, or how she'd been making a living, or anything truly real.

Watching him boast to his colleagues about how she wanted to go to med school made Georgia cringe. She had so much potential to be a huge embarrassment, and she hated feeling like she wasn't doing anything to stop it...but she couldn't help it. She liked having a father. They were having fun getting to know each other, and it was so easy to just let it go one more day, and one more day after that...

Still, if he knew everything, he'd probably be pretending he didn't know her, and that fact was what lead her to switch from champagne to strong martinis, downing two fast and then carrying the third out to the terrace, where she stood by herself, feeling lost, until House's telltale limping gait came up behind her.

"You're drunk," He stated, sounding interested.

"Not just drunk," She corrected, "Almost wasted."

He took a swallow of his own scotch. "How come?"

"We were having a really good night."

"A good night, huh? Sounds like a reason to drown your sorrows."

"Do we ever have a reason?"

Behind Georgia's back, House smiled a little. During Wilson's stay in the hospital, she had quickly caught on to the hour of the evening when he rooted the Jack Daniels bottle out of his desk drawer, and had taken to showing up and joining him.

At first, he had resented the intrusion, but after a couple of weeks, he given up and started enjoying her company. She had a lot of excellent dirt on Wilson due to her dead mother's big mouth, and she'd heard enough dirty talk in her line of work that he didn't have to be dainty with her. They'd gotten to know each other fairly well, even strange and mismatched friends as they were. As useless undergrads went, she even had a decent medical perspective from time to time. House figured she could be a lot worse.

He walked over to stand at the railing next to her as she went on.

"We're getting to know each other. No secrets. Except for my really big secret." She shook her head, "I'm just not looking forwad to ruining this."

"So don't tell him."

Georgia blinked at him. "After all this, you think I should lie."

"Every - "

"Yeah, yeah. Everybody lies." Georgia rolled her eyes. "I guess I'm the weird one for not wanting this relationship to be a sham."

"It's a sham if he doesn't know everything about you? Does that mean you're also going to come clean about that acid you dropped freshman year? The wet t-shirt contests during Spring Break? That time you and your hot roommate made a pitcher of margaritas and -"

"What the hell are you talking about? I never -"

House held up a hand. "Please. I have some images I'd like to hang on to."

"You're such a sicko." Georgia eyed him. "You're practically my uncle, you know. Doesn't it creep you out to talk to me like that?"

"Nah. You know what they say. 'If she's not kin, it ain't a sin.'" He sipped at his scotch, "Plus, I'm pretty wasted, too."

She grunted in agreement to this, downing what was left of her drink.

"You know you never answered my question that day in the clinic," House said suddenly, and Georgia peered at him inquisitively around the wide rim of her martini glass.

She swallowed and wiped her mouth indelicately with the back of her hand. "What question?"

"Why you got into the business."

"Oh, right." Georgia leaned her head back and laughed. "Believe it or not, it was to raise money for a good cause."

"Yeah, like what? New Jesus-mobile for the local nuns? I'm sure they'd approve."

"I wanted to go on this summer abroad trip to Spain my junior year of college. Asking Mom was pointless and I was broke. So my Spanish teacher offered to cover the cost and let me work off the debt." She gave him an exaggerated wink. "If you know what I mean."

"Nope. I'll have to see the footage. He did tape it, didn't he?"

"Anyway," She went on, ignoring him, "I'm just getting paid for what everyone else my age does for free. What's the harm?"

"There are certain dangers to it, as you know," House pointed out.

Georgia sighed, leaning forward and resting her chin on the railing somewhat clumsily. "My friend Robin got raped in the basement of her apartment building while she was doing her laundry on a Tuesday night. It's not really a danger that's limited to escorts, is it?"

House considered this. "No. But some people would argue that your friend Robin was minding her own business, whereas you were soliciting someone for sex. You knowingly put yourself into a high risk situation."

She turned her head sideways to look at him, resting her cheek on her forearm. "Are you telling me I asked for it?"

It was a genuine question. She looked so small and fragile peering up at him like that he reached over and smoothed his hand over the soft hair at the edge of her face, quietly trying to decide if he was more pissed at someone for hurting her or pissed at her for not avoiding the situation altogether.

She closed her eyes briefly, but when he didn't answer, a flash of defensiveness crossed her face, and she straightened up, shrugging his hand off. "Fine. I admit it was dangerous. But that shouldn't mean someone is just allowed to.." She struggled with the words, and her hands moved to play with her rings nervously. "I wasn't on drugs, I wasn't a pro, the whole appeal is that we're just college girls that happen to need money, and yeah it was stupid, but that doesn't mean I asked for someone to -"

She was starting to tear up, and between that and the booze, he softened, stopping her ramble by putting one hand firmly over her two fidgeting ones.

"I didn't say yes," He reminded her.

She sniffled and glared at him. "You didn't say no, either."

"Yeah, well..." He paused again, debating whether or not he'd regret saying what he was thinking.

"What?" Georgia demanded instantly. "Tell me."

He smiled a little. "When I...'invite' girls to my place, sometimes I wonder what the hell they're thinking. I mean, I could do anything to them."

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't really want to discuss what you do -"

"Not that. I mean, if I wasn't such a balanced, upstanding gentleman..." He waited while she rolled her eyes. "When you go into a stranger's home, you're vulnerable. When you're a young girl, you're also dumb, which makes you twice as vulnerable. Not to sound ungrateful, but it's idiotic."

Georgia contemplated this for a moment, then smiled at him. "You realize you just outed yourself at the guy who worries about the welfare of his poor little hookers?"

He snorted. "Please."

"You mock me, but you're the one with the Richard Gere complex."

He pushed away from the railing and limped away from her back to the party. "You're going to make me vomit."

"You're a misanthrope with a heart of gold!" She called, doubled over laughing as he flipped her off, not bothering to turn around before disappearing back inside.

The sound of a throat being cleared startled her into literally losing her breath. She pressed one palm to her chest, panting, then paled as she met eyes with Wilson, who was leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, looking awkward and upset at the same time.

"How...how long...?" She couldn't even bear to ask, and it didn't matter anyway.

The answer was written all over his face.

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**Finally! And I hope House didn't seem too OOC in this chapter. I just picture them having that kind of relationship. As always, reviews are love. :) **


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey guys - I've been on a bit of a hiatus - thanks for your reviews, hope you enjoy! xo**

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Georgia couldn't breathe. She couldn't speak. She didn't even think she could move until Wilson started towards her, and she stumbled back and bumped into the railing.

He stopped, looking stung and confused by her reaction. Georgia closed her eyes for a moment, and forced herself to recognize that she was acting completely irrational.

"Sorry," She said, opening her eyes again and taking a deep breath, "Sorry."

"What..." Wilson shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged weakly. "I didn't think it was a great opening line. Was I wrong?"

"But all these weeks we've been talking...you never said anything."

"We were just getting to know each other," Georgia pleaded quietly. "I just thought -"

Before she could finish, something else seemed to strike him. "How does House know about this?"

"What do you mean?" She muttered, trying to buy time. She had been hoping that he wouldn't think of that detail right off the bat.

"Why would you tell him all of that, before you told me?"

"Because...he was around," She said vaguely, not wanting to tell the story of how they'd first met in the cinlic accidently. "I wasn't telling you because what _you_ think _matters_."

"I just can't believe...you could have asked me for help. You didn't have to..." He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, trying to swallow the fact that she had this job, that she'd been hurt because of it. If he'd just been there, if he hadn't left her alone with her mother...

His head came back up. "How could your mother let this happen?"

Georgia swallowed hard. "She didn't."

"Don't cover for her, Georgia. She must know you need financial help -"

"She dead, Wilson," She blurted, just needing to say it before she chickened out and started crying. "She died just before all of this started."

"No," He shook his head in disbelief, "Someone would have called me. I would have gotten some kind of letter - "

"From who?" Georgia shrugged. "You were divorced, and I was over eighteen. There was no need for you to be informed."

Wilson rubbed his palm over his face, stunned into silence. Georgia approached him slowly, resting one hand on his arm.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" She said quietly. "Really talk?"

They ended up at a McDonald's a few miles away, sitting under the cold flourescent lights, looking at fries and coffee they both knew neither of them would touch.

Wilson had his fingers steepled, and he took deep breaths, trying to absorb that his ex-wife was dead, that his daughter had basically raised herself in a less than nurturing environment, and had been sleeping with well to do business men to stay on her feet.

Georgia sat on the other side of the table, processing that her father had been married twice after her mother, and that the rumors about him seducing nurses were actually true half the time.

"I wish our lives were less dysfunctional," He said finally. "For your sake anyway. You were such a sweet little girl. You didn't deserve any of this."

"Neither of us deserved Mom," She offered.

"I don't know what to do now. I don't know how to make it up to you."

Georgia shrugged. "Don't try too hard. I'll probably make a killing selling the rights to my memoirs."

"Not exactly the words a parent longs to hear." Wilson fidgeted with a ketchup packet. "You never answered before - how did House know so much?"

"Oh...right." Georgia laughed. "I came into the clinic a week before I came to find you. I thought you worked at General and that I was being so smart coming to Plainsboro. He didn't let on that he knew who I was, and got the whole story taking my history."

"That sounds about right. Although you should know that the fact that he let you leave without humiliating you means he might actually be mellowing a little."

"Yeah." Georgia smiled. "House is okay."

Wilson raised an eyebrow. "Well, you're definitely my kid. Only those of us with Wilson genes manage to like House."

"Cuddy likes him," Georgia offered.

"She's another story."

Silence lapsed, and they looked at each other blankly.

"I feel numb," Georgia confessed. "Like someone dunked me in ice water."

"Yeah." Wilson sighed, picking up his car keys, "We should both go home, get some sleep, and try not to have any nightmares about all of this."

Georgia slid out of the booth, picking up their full tray and heading for the trash. "Unfortunately, I think that's going to be harder for you than it is for me."

As they approached Wilson's car, she hung back, gently pushing the passenger's door closed when he opened it for her.

"I'm going to get a cab, I think."

Wilson shook his head. "Don't waste the cash, it's no trouble to drop you off -"

"No, really...we live in opposite directions. You'd have to take the freeway. I need to think alone for a while." She offered him a hesitant smile. "Just say okay."

He nodded slowly. "Okay."

Georgia watched him fight down the urge to insist on driving her and smiled. "I love you."

Wilson's head came up like a gunshot had gone off, eyebrows raised.

"Oh," He stuttered. "Uh, thanks. I mean, I - "

"Yeah, I know," She laughed, reaching up to give him a quick hug.

"I mean I love you, too," He whispered, and paused before adding. "No matter what."

Feeling the telltale prickle of tears, she drew back. "Oh. Uh, _thanks_," She mimicked back, and they laughed somewhat awkwardly, until she pulled her bag across her shoulders and raised a hand, heading for the street. "I'll see you at work. Night, Wilson."

"Night," He called behind her, but the knot in her stomach seemed to weigh a ton, and she couldn't bring herself to look back.

She hailed a cab and, at the last second, gave him an address that wasn't her own. Fifteen minutes later, she stood on House's doorstep, emotionally unraveled from the night she'd had.

House didn't look at all surprised to see her when he opened the door, leaning against the frame with a half full glass of liquor. He took in her wet eyes and fidgeting hands and held out the tumbler. "Need a sip?"

Georgia closed her eyes and slumped forward, pressing her forehead to his chest and slinging both arms around his waist. He stood there awkwardly before clearing his throat and announcing, "If you're planning to charge me for cuddling, I'd like to know up front."

She laughed thickly, trying to steel herself against tears but failing. Her giggle morphed quickly into quiet, hitching sobs, and she sighed when his hands came slowly to her back. "I'm sorry."

He didn't answer, moving his hands lightly back and forth. She moved back a little, knowing comfort wasn't his forte and feeling guilty for forcing him into the situation. To her surprise, he tugged her back against him firmly, bringing one hand to the back of her head and holding her there. "You don't know it yet, kid, but you have nothing to be sorry for."

Georgia didn't know if it was the words, being held still, or the faint sound of Tom Waits music playing faintly from the living room stereo, but something in her broke then, and she gripped on to the ancient fabric of his Michigan t-shirt and cried her heart out.

She had no idea how much time had passed when she finally pulled back, feeling puffy and raw, and grimaced at the state of his shirt. "Crap. You want me to wash that for you?"

House snorted. "Would I have made it through my residency if I was scared of a little snot?"

Moving back, he wordlessly invited her out of the foyer into the apartment. "So I take it you and Wilson had some serious girl talk, huh?"

"Something like that." Georgia collapsed on the couch and he followed her, leaning on the arm.

"Get everything out in the open?"

"Everything we could think of."

"Feel better?"

"Feel like I belong in an Oprah's Book Club story."

"God, I hope I never know what that's like."

"Touche." She reached up, took the glass out of his hand and drank half of it in one gulp, then closed her eyes. "I'm tired. I don't know why I came here."

"It wasn't because you craved my warmth and compassion?"

"I think it's because I knew you'd have booze." She cracked an eye open. "But thanks for the other part, too."

"Yeah." House cleared his throat, tossed a blanket from the back of the couch to her lap, and moved off in the direction of his bedroom. "Get some rest."

"You don't mind if I crash?"

He kept walking. "You've already snotted my shirt, what further damage could you do?"

Georgia smiled and kicked her feet up onto the couch. "Night, House."

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**I hope I haven't overdosed you all on angst...next chapter goes back to more fun snark, so stay tuned. Reviews are love.**


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